Just desserts
by cutiesonthehorizon
Summary: An unplanned stop in a small town brings on unexpected trouble for our exorcists.


_A/N: Written for the Exorcist Fic Exchange for Herbeloved. Special thanks to my beta Starrylizard. As always, any and all mistakes left behind are my own:) I hope you all enjoy._

* * *

It wasn't the best place for their truck to break down, but Tomas thought it could've been worse. They were driving through a small town in the middle of nowhere when the engine just gave out while driving down the road. Tomas parked the car at the bottom of the hill, but no amount of turning the starter made the engine come back to life.

"Well, looks like we will have to find a garage," Tomas commented, leaning back from the popped hood of the car. Both he and Marcus had tried to figure out what the problem might be, but without luck. Whatever it was, they couldn't fix it by themselves.

Marcus grimaced, looking around. They were in a rather empty street, with several downtrodden buildings. They just entered the town limits of Oakwood, with population of 2460 people. Looking at the street, Marcus wondered how old that sign actually was.

"About four miles back we passed a gas station," he said and leaned back against the car, arms crossed. "They may have a number for the local garage."

Tomas looked back, at the hill they just drove down and sighed. He didn't really feel up for the trek, it was barely twelve hours ago they finished their third exorcism since Chicago and it had left him feeling wiped out. It also left him with a nice shiner on his chin. He knew he attracted attention, though lately it was a different kind than he was used to. Before, when he was the rising star of Chicago's church, a shiner would have brought concerned glances and a kind word. But ever since leaving Chicago and embarking on this new life with Marcus, Tomas wasn't the squeaky-clean priest anymore. The recent stubble on his cheeks and the change of clothes made him look much more dangerous, as well as anonymous, and Tomas had to admit there were moments when he appreciated that. Though he would never admit out loud that was one of the reasons why lately the collar went on only for exorcisms.

Right now, however, Tomas looked like someone who hadn't slept or shaved for several days and who happened to have been on the wrong end of someone's fist. All of these assumptions were valid, but they also meant that Tomas didn't want to go all the way back to the gas station. The only problem was that while Marcus looked marginally better, his face unmarred by the violence they experienced, he hadn't got away scot free either. When the demon decided to fully showcase its strength and both exorcists went flying through the air, Marcus had the bad luck of landing wrongly on his foot and had ended up with a bum ankle. Which, was the reason why Tomas was driving when the car broke down and also why he couldn't really send the older man on this errand.

With a sigh and a look that said 'you owe me one', Tomas headed back towards the gas station, ignoring Marcus' chuckle and the sound of the closing door. When he turned around, he saw Marcus had made himself comfortable across both seats, leaning against the door, his hat covering his face from the light. Tomas would bet the man was already asleep. With a shake of his head, Tomas slowly trudged upwards.

Luck, or God's will, seemed to be on his side at least, as halfway up the hill a car passed Tomas and came to a stop a few yards in front of him. A bit wary, Tomas closed the distance and gave a small wave and a smile he hoped didn't look too threatening. An old lady sat behind the wheel, eyeing him with curiosity. On the seat next to her sat a huge slobbering dog, which explained why she wasn't scared of stopping for a stranger.

"Hello?" Tomas said, keeping a safe distance and hoping his fresh stubble and the bruise on his chin didn't totally wash away the Sunday school priest look that got all the old ladies in his parish in Chicago to ply him with food.

"Did you get lost, young man?" the woman asked, her voice rough, probably from years of smoking. At least that's what Tomas assumed from the pack of cigarettes on the dashboard. The dog barked as if questioning his presence too.

"Not lost, exactly. But our car broke down not far away and I was looking for a garage..."

"Oh, is it that green truck with the sleeping gentleman down the hill?"

"That will be the one," Tomas replied with a smile on his face and was relieved when the woman smiled too.

"You are lucky then. I know of just the place that would fix your car up in a jiffy. I can give you a ride."

Tomas bit his lip. The offer was rather enticing, but the large dog on the front seat made him think it over. The lady must've seen his doubt and laughed, patting the dog on the head.

"You don't have to worry about Ripper here... he is a sweetie," she said with a smile as Tomas' eyes went a bit wide at the name.

"Ripper?" he repeated, swallowing when the dog let out another bark. The lady laughed then nodded towards the back seat.

"He won't hurt a soul, unless he thinks you're a threat to me. Which he doesn't... or you would've already seen his teeth."

"That's encouraging," Tomas admitted with an uneasy smile, then looked up the hill and the distance he still had to pass to the gas station. With a sigh, he shrugged.

"Are you sure it won't be a problem? I don't want to bother you. I can just... walk."

"Oh, don't be foolish. It's still a bit chilly today and you look like you already had a rough day. Hop in... Sal's garage is on my way anyway. My name is Elisa by the way. And how should I call you, young man?"

Tomas told her his name and hopped into the car, or rather carefully sat on the back seat, keeping his hands to himself and voice low and unthreatening, because Ripper was watching him like a hawk. Tomas' hand brushed over the place where his golden cross hung from his necklace and he muttered a silent prayer under his nose, while Ripper moved his huge head towards him, tongue sticking out and slobbered over his right knee. Elisa laughed and pushed the mutt away, while Tomas leaned back in the seat. At least the ride to the garage was short, and while Tomas tried not to divulge anything memorable, the woman kept up the chatter, pointing out different places as they passed through the town. By the time Tomas stepped out of the car, trying to inconspicuously wipe away Ripper's saliva from his legs, he was rather well acquainted with the town. He waved goodbye to Elisa and headed inside the small garage.

The owner, Sal, as the name of the garage hinted, was a small, balding man with a moustache that rivaled that of Hercule Poirot's. He eyed Tomas with some suspicion, but when Tomas looked him straight in the eyes and put on his most innocent smile, the man smiled back. When Tomas described their problem with the truck, Sal nodded already suspecting what the problem might be.

"Wait here, I'll get Manny to take you back down with a tow car. It sounds like a problem with the alternator. There's a vending machine over there, grab yourself some coffee or food while you wait, it might take a moment."

Tomas thanked him and while Sal went to find his employee, he browsed through the offer of the vending machine. His stomach growled enticingly upon spotting a sandwich and Tomas couldn't say no that. Feeling rather generous, he grabbed one for Marcus too, so when the towing car parked in front of their truck, Tomas stepped out and woke Marcus up by throwing the sandwich on his chest. To his dismay, Marcus didn't even flinch, just flicked the rim of the hat up and glared at the offending object, then at Tomas.

"Really? Tuna?"

Tomas rolled his eyes and pointed towards the lumberjack that stepped out of the tow car and was now looking under their hood.

"Look who I brought."

Marcus sat up, seemingly considering the sandwich, then putting it aside to meet with their would-be savior. Manny shook hands with Marcus and told them they probably had a busted alternator, which needed replacing. Bad news was that they didn't have the part in the garage and had to wait until the next day for someone to bring it. Good news was there was a motel that was relatively cheap with a free room and two beds waiting just for them.

"We just finished a job and all Bennett told us was to head south. I think spending a day or two relaxing isn't such a bad thing," Tomas said, as he was rifling through his bag looking for some clean clothes he could change into after a shower. Marcus lay stretched out on one of the beds, his ankle propped on a pillow even as he was running his fingers through the spine of the old bible he found in the bed stand.

"Toss me my bag, would you?" Marcus asked and Tomas was of half a mind to refuse, but didn't have the heart. He handed Marcus his bag, rolling his eyes when the older man picked out the small case where he kept his pencils.

"Why don't you just buy a block of paper? Instead of defacing every Bible we come across in motel rooms."

Marcus looked up, a smirk in his eyes even as he grabbed a black pencil.

"Why, I'm not defacing, just illustrating," Marcus said and as if daring Tomas to say more, he made the first curved line over the top of the first page. Tomas sighed and shook his head, but he didn't comment more. Instead he took that shower, enjoying the hot spray and the fact they at least had a day of relaxation to be looking forward to, without a need to spend it sitting in the truck. He was already thinking about setting his alarm clock and maybe finally getting a proper morning run.

An hour later Marcus closed up the bible, satisfied by the amount of corrections and pretty much bored out of his mind. He wanted to start pestering Tomas, who was seemingly relaxing with some cheap novel bought at the gas station, the reading glasses precariously propped on the end of his nose. He looked like a school professor and Marcus bit his lip to stop himself from commenting on that. Instead he bent his knee and started checking out the swelling on his ankle. Having an ice pack on it seemed to help more than the ride in the truck. He could almost move it without too much pain.

"How is it?" Tomas was looking up from the book, taking off the glasses and coming towards him. Marcus just shrugged.

"I might be able to drive tomorrow."

"No rush," Tomas opposed. "I really don't mind driving."

"Yeah well, I'm happier behind the wheel than riding shotgun. Something about getting to our destination this year," Marcus teased good naturedly and Tomas rolled his eyes, but still sat down on the edge of the bed to take a look at Marcus' ankle. The ice pack had indeed helped, though the bruising looked painful. Tomas gently ran his fingers over the joint, grimacing at the hiss it elicited.

"Sorry. You should put that ice pack back for a while, then I can wrap it up for you. Maybe we could go out and grab some dinner? Elisa told me about a good restaurant not far from here. There's also a pub with some homebrew beer that I quote 'Is to die for'."

Marcus raised his eyebrows.

"Wine and dine? That sounds almost like you're taking me out on a date."

Tomas rolled his eyes, grabbed the ice pack and unceremoniously put it down on Marcus' ankle.

"I miss a good home cooked meal and this is supposed to be a good family restaurant. If we are taking a day off, we should do it properly, don't you think? Even God rested on the seventh day."

"True, but today's Wednesday," Marcus replied, however his stomach chose that moment to let them both know that the tuna sandwich from the vending machine didn't manage to fill his stomach. As if in sympathy, Tomas' stomach rumbled too. They both laughed.

"Deal, then. Let's go out for dinner and a beer."

The restaurant they visited indeed served a good home cooked meal and they both had the special house soup before plunging into a portion of prime ribs with mashed potatoes. With bellies pleasantly full and the night still young, Tomas led them to the pub Elise talked about as the place to be. And she was right.

The pub was made in a western style, all wood paneling, pictures and trinkets from the times long past adorning the walls. It had a cozy atmosphere, with good music and a tasty special brewed beer. Marcus instantly fell in love with the place.

It seemed to be exceptionally busy for a Wednesday night, but Tomas didn't mind. He was actually enjoying all the chatter around them, the easy smile on Marcus' face as he hummed the tune of the song someone picked on the jukebox. He was already on his second beer to Marcus' third.

While neither of them was particularly drunk, the beer and good mood might've been the reason why Marcus totally forgot about his bum ankle.

Marcus stood up heading towards the bathroom, but he didn't make it much farther than the next table when his leg gave out and he swayed. Unfortunately, it was just at the same moment that the waitress was serving the table. As Marcus was trying to right himself, he bumped into the woman who spilled some of the beer right on the pants of the guest.

It would've been almost funny, if not for the angry reaction of the man.

"Watch out, you stupid bitch! Really, why the hell does Pat still put up with you? Should have sent you packing the moment your cheating husband kicked you to the curb."

Marcus was momentarily stunned by the onslaught of words, seeing the tears welling in the woman's eyes. With a growl he stepped between her and the man, realizing he was in fact dealing with some snotty kid. That didn't lessen his anger however and he leaned down, so he was face to face with the kid.

"Listen pal, I get that getting your pants wet might seem like a big deal to you, but this is no way to talk to a lady. You have a problem, we can take care of it outside."

The kid stared at him with wide, crazy looking eyes and a sick smirk that clearly said he was up for the challenge. Marcus straightened, nodding towards the exit when Tomas appeared by his side.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked at the same time as the waitress grabbed at Marcus' arm, shaking her head.

"Everything is alright; I'll just bring Danny here another beer. Please, don't make a fuss." Her eyes were wide and pleading and Marcus knew that if he indeed started something she would most likely lose her job.

Tomas also realized something was wrong because he squared his shoulders and stood right by Marcus side.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

The kid, Danny as the waitress called him inclined his head and gave them all a toothy grin. One of his friends, looking a bit more on the drunk side, chose that moment to pipe up.

"Did I hear someone offer a free beer?" he chortled and the girl next to him chuckled. "Screw beer, I want fried onion rings. Brings us a plate, Jackie."

Marcus felt his blood boil, but the waitress just gave him a slight shake of her head, grabbed all the empty bottles off the table and left. Danny also seemingly lost his interest in the whole affair, or maybe it was just the fact his girlfriend was busy trying to imprint her lips on his neck.

"Marcus?" Tomas put a hand on his arm in silent support and Marcus felt some of his anger abate. While he might have enjoyed a little pub brawl, he didn't want to cause trouble for the waitress. So, he shook his head and headed towards his original destination, telling Tomas to go back to their seat.

It took Marcus some time and another beer, but soon he pushed the incident out of his mind. He was back to his good mood, nodding along to the music and listening to Tomas talking about the first time he got drunk.

"So, here I was, standing in front of my door, weaving from side to side and trying to quietly fit the key in the lock," Tomas said, his whole body gesticulating the movement as if he was replaying the scene in his mind, and Marcus couldn't take his eyes off of him, smiling with that glint in his eyes. Tomas was taking in all the attention and with a smirk slammed his palm on the table. "When bam, Abuela opened the door."

Marcus laughed, shaking his head.

"You should've expected that!"

"I was drunk, I wasn't really thinking straight," Tomas said with a shrug and finished his beer.

"What happened then? Did she give you the death glare? Shouted? Or did she just let you sleep it off on the porch?"

At that, Tomas had the grace to blush a bit.

"It got worse."

Marcus raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

"Pray tell."

"She scared me so bad... I puked. All of the tequila and the chicken... right in front of her, on the porch. I almost sloshed her feet," Tomas said, grimacing at the memory, while Marcus was howling with laughter, ignoring the looks he was getting from the neighboring table.

"It's not that funny," Tomas pouted, but his eyes were smiling, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. "I got the 'I'm really disappointed in you, young man' glare, which is the worst, let me tell you."

"Oh yeah, I can imagine," Marcus agreed, brushing tears of mirth from his eyes. "Did she make you clean up the porch too?"

Tomas grimaced.

"Yeah, with a toothbrush. Right after I woke up... with the hangover from hell."

Marcus snorted.

"So now I know why you're such a bad drinker. You were scarred for life."

Tomas rolled his eyes.

"I got drunk a few more times," he admitted. "In Loyola... it was hard to say no," Tomas said, his voice a bit somber. 'To more things than just the alcohol' he thought, remembering Jessica. But that was long past. Shaking his head, Tomas wanted to take another swig but realized his glass was empty. Marcus was also finishing his glass.

"Want another one or should we hit the road?"

"Up to you, hermano," Marcus said with a smirk as he downed the last of his beer and pushed the empty glass towards Tomas. "We might have room service, but if you upchuck, I will let you clean it as well."

Tomas rolled his eyes and grabbed the empty glasses, heading for the bar. He took barely three steps though when someone quite harshly bumped into his shoulder. Tomas managed to keep his balance, but he wasn't prepared to hear the racist slur hissed in his ear. To be frank, last time Tomas heard that slur was in Chicago when some older kids approached him and his sister on the playground. He didn't really get it then, but it made Olivia cry, and even at six years, Tomas bristled, set his shoulders straight and glared at the older boy. Much in the same way as Marcus was now glaring at Danny, who was eyeing Tomas with disdain. Tomas blinked, not really understanding what the problem was. He just shook his head and looked back at Marcus, who somehow managed to get out of his seat and stood rather threateningly right behind Tomas.

"A problem, kid?" Marcus asked with a growl and Tomas realized he was already drunk, they both were. Which didn't bode well for either of their self-restraint. Tomas knew he had to diffuse the situation before it turned into a brawl. He put a calming hand on Marcus' shoulder. Because he was turned aside, he didn't notice the utter disgust appearing on Danny's face or the way his hand clenched in a fist.

"It's okay, Marcus, nothing happened. I think we better go anyway, it's a bit stuffy in here," Tomas said and gave a small nudge to Marcus to return to his seat.

Marcus didn't listen to Tomas though. He did notice the look and knew very well what it meant. He could feel his blood boiling and for a moment he didn't really care that they could get into trouble. He was just itching to have a good brawl.

"Yeah, you better go, latrino," Danny said with a smirk, chin up in clear provocation. "You better leave the town too. We don't want the likes of you stinking up our finest bars."

"The likes of us?" Marcus uttered through clenched teeth and Tomas momentarily closed his eyes in a silent prayer. He saw that both men were ready to jump at each other, the air was almost crackling with pent up testosterone and anger. He really hoped the kid wouldn't answer, but his hopes were dashed quickly.

Danny gave them both a disdainful look, pausing at Tomas' hand still touching Marcus in a calming manner.

"Fags, Mexicans, take your pick," Danny sneered and Tomas suddenly had to restrain Marcus, who was about to launch himself at the kid.

"You little-"

"Marcus!" Tomas called out, one arm across Marcus' chest, the other on his shoulder as he physically stepped between the two men.

"Don't. We have no way of leaving town," he hissed in Marcus' ear and was relieved when he saw some reason returning into the older man's eyes. The fact there were two other guys standing up in clear defense of the kid also put a damper on his fire. While he would've loved to let out some of the pent-up energy and rage that he'd accumulated through his life, it really wasn't worth it. For better or worse they were stuck in this town for the night and if he started a brawl, he knew Tomas would feel obliged to help out too. Marcus' eyes landed on the bruise on Tomas' cheek and he thought they'd both had enough trouble for the week already.

Marcus leaned closer to the kid and whispered something in his ear. No one else could hear what it was, but they could see the reaction. Danny's face turned beet red, but he didn't say another word, just turned away, seething. Tomas frowned and nudged at Marcus' arm. With a barely contained growl, Marcus returned to their table. Tomas let out a relieved breath, then with raised hands holding the empty glasses bypassed the still fuming kid and his companions, who were already returning to their seats. The kid frowned, clearly still riled up for action and obviously dissatisfied by the anticlimactic ending, but his girlfriend once again acted as a distraction. She called his name with a sweet voice and pointed to a row of shots that were waiting for them. Danny turned his head to glare at Marcus and gave him the finger, though the older man was completely ignoring him, muttering something under his breath. Danny was disappointed, but the girl chose that moment to sit on his lap and he seemingly forgot about the two strangers.

Tomas meanwhile put the empty glasses on the bar and asked the waitress to bring them their bill along with a parting shot of Marcus' favorite whiskey. He looked back towards their table, saw that both parties were back in their seats and decided he had a moment for a quick detour to the bathroom, without risking a brawl.

When he returned, the waitress was already by their table and Marcus eyed the whiskey with surprise, even as Tomas pulled out the money to pay their bill.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with this," the waitress told them in a low, apologetic voice. Marcus raised an eyebrow and gave her one of his charming smiles.

"You have nothing to apologize for, darling," he said and the waitress blushed a little, then shook her head, clearly stealing herself to say something else.

"This town is... very close minded. That kid, Danny, is the sheriff's son... he can do pretty much whatever he wants. He's always looking for a fight too. It would be best if you leave as soon as possible," she added, a warning, and the look in her eyes spoke volumes. She'd already seen plenty of rows caused by that hooligan and was getting fed up by it, but there was really nothing she could do. It also explained the reaction, or rather lack of it, of the other guests and the barman, who didn't even lift a finger to stop an altercation.

"We have to wait for our car to be fixed," Tomas said and pushed a nice tip along with their bill. "But thank you for the warning. We'll try and stay out of trouble," he added with a smirk even as Marcus rolled his eyes.

As the waitress left, Marcus grabbed the shot of whiskey with a question in his eyes and Tomas shrugged.

"It's medicinal," he said with a smile.

"And you didn't get one why?"

Tomas grimaced.

"I find it more medicinal not to get a hangover in the morning."

"Well then, cheers," Marcus downed the shot then stood up, hiding a wince as he felt the twinge in his ankle. "Let's blow this joint," he muttered and Tomas couldn't agree more. He made sure he was between Danny and Marcus as they passed his table. There were no more words exchanged, but he could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He was pretty sure the kid was glaring daggers at them, but neither Tomas nor Marcus turned around to see.

Tomas could feel some of the tension leaving his shoulders the moment they stepped out of the pub and the fresh air hit them in the face. Marcus also seemed to liven up a bit, or maybe it was just the shot of whiskey combined with the beer that started working. They headed slowly back towards their motel, enjoying the sight of the seemingly sleepy town. There were only a few people milling on the street, all heading somewhere with a purpose. It looked calm, maybe a bit too calm, but then both Tomas and Marcus were lately used to too much drama.

"Someone should put that kid in his place," Marcus spoke out of the blue and while Tomas wholeheartedly agreed, he turned an imploring look at Marcus.

"Yes, but that someone shouldn't be you."

Marcus rolled his eyes.

"You're no fun," he pouted and Tomas chuckled.

"Pardon me if I don't want to tell Bennett you need to be bailed out of jail again. He would just tell me to leave you there and I'd rather not try and look for a part time job in this godforsaken town, just 'cause you wanted to teach that brat a lesson."

"Well, you already seem to know half the population here," Marcus shrugged

Tomas sighed.

"It's just some small-minded kids. They exist everywhere. Not the first time I heard that particular word, but I must admit... the last time it was coming out of some ten-year-old's mouth."

Marcus grimaced, his fingers curling into a fist, then visibly relaxing.

"Not the first time I was called a fag either," Marcus admitted in a low voice and Tomas grit his teeth, his own anger flaring. The way Marcus said it made it clear that he heard the word often and most likely as a kid. As if reading his thoughts, Marcus looked at him with a smirk on his face.

"Kids at the home for boys could be cruel. In some way, people at the Church weren't that much different, but after I broke a few noses, they all learned to whisper the words well behind my back." Marcus' eyes glinted and Tomas knew he was proud of that.

"It is funny, though. Back in Chicago I was being taunted by kids for being Mexican, for speaking Spanish. Olivia had it worse I think... she always tried to shield me from the older kids," Tomas spoke and his tone turned wistful when he mentioned his sister. "Then when I went to Mexico, I was being made fun of for my American accent. Kids will always find something to use against you if they think you're different."

"Yes well, once you get to the age you can buy a drink, you should definitely know better," Marcus muttered under his breath, but Tomas didn't notice. They had already reached their motel room and the call of the bed was so strong any thoughts about the encounter at the pub went right out of his mind.

o-o-o

Marcus was getting itchy to leave the town or the motel room, Tomas could tell. The older man wasn't used to waiting idly for anything, so when Sal from the garage called to tell them that the part they needed would arrive later in the afternoon, he wasn't happy. With the time needed for the repair, they wouldn't get their car back before five pm and there was also the possibility they won't get it before the next morning. Which meant they either had to spend all day outside, walking around the town, or pay for another night at the motel.

"I know the weather's nice, but I bet your ankle wouldn't appreciate the walking," Tomas argued and with a grimace Marcus had to admit he was right.

"One more night, then we're out of here," he said grudgingly and Tomas smiled. He slipped out to pay for another night, pausing in front of the door. The weather was indeed nice and Tomas took in a deep breath. Maybe he could use the time they were offered to get in that run. When he entered the room, Marcus was back to his sketching and his trusty tape recorder was turned on full blast. Yep, looked like an hour or two out in the fresh air was a good idea.

"Where you going?" Marcus asked when he saw Tomas changing into sweatpants and a sweatshirt. The sun was shining but there was still some chill in the air.

"Elisa told me there's a lake just a few miles from here, good for a run. Gotta stretch a bit before we're stuck in the truck again. I'll stop in to the shop on my way back to grab some food too."

Marcus paused in thought.

"I might join you if you need help shopping," he offered, but Tomas shook his head.

"I'll go for that run first... I doubt you want to start up that hobby with a bum leg."

Marcus snorted.

"I'm not planning to start with it ever."

"I know. You run only when someone's chasing you," Tomas said with a fond smile just as Marcus opened his mouth to say the same. The older man rolled his eyes, muttering something about cheeky buggers. Tomas chuckled. He was almost out the door when Marcus added: "Do be careful, Tomas. That little shit at the bar looked quite bored."

"Hey, I grew up in Mexico City, I think I can take care of one narrow-minded kid."

Marcus shrugged.

"Just saying. And bring me some coffee!" he called just as Tomas closed the door.

o-o-o

Tomas found the path quite easily and after a short walk through the forest he was rewarded by the view of a beautiful lake, the water gently rippling in the soft breeze. Tomas took a deep breath and smelled the water and the trees and, in that moment, he felt very much alive and thankful for the beauty God created. There was calmness in this place that Tomas could only wish for in either of the cities he grew up in. He felt it permeate his skin and give him a boost of energy. Stretching, because it was indeed a few weeks since he last went for a run, Tomas' eyes skimmed the lake and the path stretching along it. He spotted an elderly couple walking a dog and a young mother pushing a stroller, but there were no other people. Tomas turned on his mp3 player, a present from his sister, and put the earphones in. There was no better way to clear his head than on a run, listening to good music and enjoying the feel of the sun on his face.

Tomas made it around the lake three times before he felt the muscles in his leg starting to protest. He used the trail leading back to the town for a cool down. Despite tired muscles, he felt filled with energy and when he walked into the shop, the endorphins from the run made him feel carefree. Maybe that was the reason why he didn't notice the car pulling up to him on his way back to the motel until it was too late. Tomas had the shopping bag in one arm and a cup of coffee for Marcus in the other. He was maybe two streets from the motel, and about to cross the street, when he heard the engine and a red Chevrolet blocked his way. Tomas jumped back, the coffee slipping from his hand, the cup hitting the ground with a splash, but Tomas wasn't paying attention to that. As he jumped out of the car's way, he noted two familiar guys coming up to him from behind. They must've been following him for a while and Tomas cursed at himself. He should never have let his guard down, especially not after the warning they got yesterday. But it was too late for recriminations. He needed to get out of a situation that could turn bad very quickly. Looking around, Tomas grimaced. It was almost lunch time and the street they were on was mostly empty. Tomas caught sight of few people passing by, but they all seemed oblivious... or rather, ignoring what was going on with purpose.

The car door opened and out stepped Danny, the kid from the pub. He had a nasty smirk and Tomas wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face. Problem was the kid wasn't alone and the two guys approaching Tomas from the side seemed to be fans of the gym. There was really no way to get out of this confrontation, except maybe try to sweet talk them. Knowing he was in trouble, Tomas put the bag with the shopping down by the wall and raised both hands in the universal gesture of peace.

"I don't want any trouble," Tomas said and clenched his jaw, squaring his shoulders. If the last months with Marcus taught him anything it was to read people. And Danny's face was pretty clear on his intent, as were the two croons with him, who now stood only a few feet from Tomas.

"Our car will be fixed tonight, next morning we're out of your faces. There's no reason to take this any further," Tomas said just as the two goons launched at him, each grabbing him by the arm. Before he could do anything, he was pulled into a nearby alley, out of sight. Tomas' instincts kicked in and he managed to wriggle out of the hold on his right arm and push one of the guys away, while the other released him without much fuss.

"Oh, you'll get out soon, no doubt about that," Danny said, looking rather smug about the whole setup. "But your friend said something I can't quite let slide. So... let's settle this little matter."

"My friend's not here," Tomas growled, knowing full well what was coming as the kid was approaching him, his hand clenched into a fist.

"Well, you can always relay our message, can't you?" Danny said as he closed the distance between them and Tomas could see the fist flying towards his face. But Tomas wasn't a total newbie now and the kid had nothing on a possessed person. He managed to sidestep, turning along with the fist flying past his face, even as he grabbed the arm. Using the momentary surprise and his attacker's misbalance Tomas pulled the kid's arm back, turning both of them. He slammed the kid against the wall, hard enough that the kid's nose smashed painfully into the brick.

"I don't want to hurt you," Tomas growled, with an implied 'but I will' as he pulled Danny's arm higher, causing painful pressure on the shoulder. The kid moaned and Tomas eased some of the pressure. At the same time, he felt beefy hands grab his shoulders and pull him away. Tomas kicked back, felt his foot connect with someone's shin. There was a quick, hard jab into his kidneys and Tomas let out a gasp of pain leaning over slightly. He saw the second guy and used his own elbow to return the punch, hitting stomach. For a second Tomas was free from anyone's grasp and he used it to back away from the two hooligans. He was almost back on the open street, keeping his eyes on the two guys when he realized he'd lost sight of Danny.

That was a mistake. While Tomas was trying to get away, he didn't notice Danny picking up a plank from the pile of some rubble and sneaking behind him. As Tomas was nearing the end of the alley and the open street, there was a rustle near his ear. Before he could turn and look, something hit him hard across the back. Tomas stumbled to his knees. The two goons were quick to use his weakness and dragged him back into the darkness of the alley. Tomas was still trying to stop the world from spinning, when he was pulled up to his feet, both arms locked in a painful hold as he was flanked on both sides. He made an effort to wriggle out of the hold, but the guys weren't messing around anymore, both pissed enough by the punches they received. There was no escape.

Manny watched him struggle for a second, wiping the blood off his own face, then giving a toothy smirk and making a tutting sound.

"Hold him up boys. I don't wanna mess up his pretty face... well, not any more than it already is," his eyes glinted at the old bruise on Tomas' cheek.

Tomas felt the hands on his arms squeeze tighter, leaving finger shaped bruises and that was all he noted before he felt a punch land on his stomach, effectively knocking the breath of him. He doubled over, at least tried to, but the two thugs were holding him in such a way he couldn't manage, so his torso stayed open to more punches.

Gritting his teeth, Tomas tried to free himself, but after the third punch he was just focusing on getting back his breath. Air seemed to be in short supply as he let it out in a pained burst when another jab landed on his side. Tomas would have frankly preferred to get punched in the head; maybe if he was knocked out they would leave him the hell alone. At least the ringing in his ears would stop, he thought and tried to prepare for the next punch, but it didn't come. Instead there was a huff of breath as the ringing grew louder and Manny shook out his hand and reached for his phone. Tomas blinked, dismayed to realize that the brat had stopped beating him just so he could take a call. He didn't know if he should feel relieved or personally offended, but his body already chose relief and he let himself sag a bit in the tight hold.

The two thugs by his side didn't seem fazed at all by listening to Manny chat about his lunch plans. Tomas took in a breath, sagging a bit more in the arms but the hold didn't relent. Still, he wasn't about to just take whatever was coming next. His right leg stomped on one thug's foot and, as the guy hissed and instinctively stepped aside, Tomas freed his right arm, turned as much as he could and punched the other thug in the neck. Or at least that was his plan, but he slightly miscalculated and instead of a punch, he just managed to shove the thug in the chest, away from himself. Unfortunately, the other guy was quick to recover and Tomas felt a pair of hands grabbing him by the shirt and throwing him to the ground.

Landing on his side, Tomas felt his teeth rattle and his shoulder give a painful twinge, slowing his fall. He could tell this was going to be bad, that he had just managed to piss off the two guys. Several swift kicks at his back and a rainfall of curse words that would make Marcus pause landed on him. Tomas could only curl into a ball and try and protect his midriff from the assault.

Rescue came from a surprising source. Manny obviously finished the call and his focus returned to Tomas. He gestured to his two partners in crime to give him a moment, then leaned down and grabbed Tomas' face.

"You're lucky. I have better things to do than waste my time on you. Lunch plans, you know," Danny shrugged, then with a smirk gave Tomas' cheek a condescending little pat.

"You better not be in town tomorrow morning, pal. Or we will remodel your pretty face along with your friend's."

With that, Danny let go of him and nodded at his two friends to come along, talking about what kind of pizza they would like, as if they hadn't just left a beaten-up person lying in an alley.

Tomas was dazedly wondering if he wasn't trapped in some demon vision or actually possessed. Somehow, he couldn't understand that people might be so cruel of their own volition, that such a nice day could turn bad so quickly. Or maybe that not one person gave a crap and came to check what was happening, even though there were several people passing by the alley.

Shaking out the fog and the dark thoughts from his head, Tomas let out a breath, relieved that his attackers were actually gone. Now the sounds from his surroundings hit him like a hammer, along with the pain. Some dog was barking, he could hear engines of cars driving down the road, but it was all muted in the pumping of the blood inside his skull. Grimacing, Tomas tried to sit up and take inventory of the damage. The worst seemed to be his back and stomach, bearing the brunt of the attack. He slowly pulled up the hem of his shirt and noted the starting bruises. His ribs gave a twinge every time he tried for a deeper breath but nothing seemed to be broken, and Tomas gave a quick thanks to God for that. Last thing they needed were to deal with broken bones. Tomas rolled his shoulder, testing it for range of motion and even though he had to bite his lip to stop the moan as the motion sent a shot of pain down to the tips of his fingers and back to his back, he was pretty confident he could move the arm without setting off any alarm bells in Marcus.

'Well, this should be fun to hide,' Tomas thought. But hide it he would, because he knew Marcus and, if the older man found out, he wouldn't care if it was the sheriff's son, he would go after him. Which would end up ugly. Tomas knew... because if someone had attacked Marcus, he would do the same, collar or future trouble be blasted.

With a groan, Tomas stood up and once he stopped swaying like a drunk, he took a proper look at his clothes. As far as he could see, there was no blood, only dirt. Grimacing, he started brushing it off, hoping Marcus wouldn't be pay close attention to him when he returned. Or maybe he could explain it off with a tumble. At least he had a sweatshirt with long sleeves that would hide the bruises on his arms. All he needed to do was pretend he was absolutely fine until they got their car and left the city... it shouldn't be that hard.

With a resolute nod, Tomas brushed off the last spot of dirt he could see on his knee and straightened up as much as he could, before stepping out into the street. He was surprised to see the bag of groceries was still where he put it, untouched. Thank god for small mercies.

Tomas slowly made it back to their motel, aware that he was probably limping as he was trying to favor his side. He took a moment in front of the door then fumbled with the key, feeling his back and shoulder protest the movement. Tomas steeled himself before he turned the key and entered the room, trying to look like there was nothing wrong with the world... or him.

He found Marcus stretched across the bed with a sketchpad in his hand, while the TV was turned on some nature channel. Tomas caught a half-finished sketch of a lion the documentary was about before Marcus put the paper down and looked up at him.

"Finally! Did you run all the way to Chicago and back? I was ready to order a pizza and call Bennett to send me a new apprentice." Marcus got off the bed and walked towards Tomas, eagerly grabbing the bag of groceries from him. "How was your run?" he asked, even as he put the bag on the table and started rummaging through its content.

"A pizza might've been better than what they had in the shop," Tomas replied with a small smile, ignoring the jibe about Bennett. He straightened up, no longer burdened by the weight of the bag and inadvertently winced as his back protested. Marcus looked up from the groceries just in time to notice.

"You okay?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, sure," Tomas quickly replied with a smile. "Just a bit stiff. Guess I'm a bit out of practice and forgot to stretch properly," he said sheepishly.

"Or maybe you're getting old, just like me," Marcus added with a helpful grin and Tomas chuckled.

"Ah, I still have at least a decade before anyone can start calling me old."

Marcus rolled his eyes and Tomas was happy his focus was back on the food.

"I'll take a shower, don't want to stink up the room any more than it is now."

"A bit late for that. But there should be enough warm water left to relax those 'old muscles' of yours too," Marcus called after him as Tomas grabbed some clean clothes and made his way quickly towards the bathroom. He could see the sudden pout on Marcus' face as he reached the bottom of the bag and looked up.

"You didn't bring any coffee?"

Tomas thought it a good time to close the door just then. He leaned against the door, biting down a whimper as his back connected with the hard surface. Clenching his jaw, he let out a forceful breath and pushed himself away, putting the clean clothes on top of the closed toilet. There wasn't much space in the bathroom; whichever way he turned, his arms were in danger of bumping into something. Tomas made sure the bathroom door was locked before he started to slowly undress. While he tried to give Marcus his privacy whenever possible, the other man tended to barge into the bathroom whenever he felt the need. He often felt the need when Tomas was showering and a simple flushing of the toilet could cause a bit of fluctuation in the water temperature. Of course, after the first two times it happened Tomas learned to simply lock the door, which caused some pouting from Marcus, but at least his flesh wasn't scalded by too hot water.

Now he was standing in the bathroom, shirt off and trying to convince his body that pulling off his pants was indeed energy worth expending. Grudgingly, he let the pants fall to the floor, trying not to lean over unless it was really necessary. His back was screaming at him along with his ribs and stomach. Tomas found the courage to look down at his torso and unconsciously winced as he saw the red discoloration on his left flank. He was pretty sure some of the bruises would appear later and he was almost happy he couldn't see his back. While his left shoulder didn't look bad, it was tender to the touch and he knew that he would have to be careful when picking up things, otherwise Marcus would take note of his stiff movements. The injury that bothered Tomas the most however was the least painful... the fingerprint bruises on his arms. While in case of need he could explain a bruise as a result of clumsiness or a tumble, it was hard to mistake the finger shapes for anything else. That meant he couldn't wear his short-sleeved shirts at least until they left town, which might ring some alarm bells in Marcus' head.

With that thought Tomas turned on the shower and gingerly stepped under the lukewarm spray. He knew cold water would be better for the bruising, but he was pretty sure shivering and chattering teeth would be counterproductive. Tomas let the water hit his face first, to wash away the sweat and grime, then he turned, wanting to do the same for his back, but even the easy spray of water felt like needles on his skin. Gritting his teeth, Tomas let the water run down his skin, glad there was no blood and no broken skin to be dealt with. All the while, his mind recounted the attack and he felt more and more anger at his own stupidity. He should have seen it coming after the warning from the waitress. He should have noticed he was being followed... or he should have fought harder... but should haves and could haves never helped anyone. His anger flared and dissipated at the same time. He was a priest, he should be able to forgive and forget. After all, it wasn't his place to mete out justice... Those bastards would get their due on the other side. Still, as he felt the twinges of his body and remembered the averted looks of people passing by on the street... Tomas wished he could do something, anything to stop those people from hurting anyone else.

Shaking his head at the futility of those thoughts Tomas turned off the shower and carefully stepped out. It wouldn't do to slip and crack his head open as well. He was biding his time, toweling off slowly, barely dabbing at the bruised skin before pulling on clean clothes. At least he had enough presence of mind to grab the sweatshirt with the long sleeves, Tomas thought to himself, even as he bit down a groan. Pulling it on was anything but pleasant and he had to take a minute to get his breathing under control, before daring to leave the bathroom.

All he wished for was to lie down in the bed and get some sleep, but he knew well enough that Marcus would find that suspicious. He never took naps in the middle of the day if he wasn't sick or beat from an exorcism, especially not after a run. Maybe he could somehow survive the next hour or so, get some reading done and then pretend to get a headache. It sounded ridiculous even in his own head, but hell, by this point he didn't really have to pretend anything.

Squaring up his shoulders, or rather trying not to hunch like an old man, he walked towards the table and sat down, picking out one of the sandwiches Marcus left. He nibbled at it slowly, despite the fact he had no appetite.

"So, did you see anything interesting on your run?" Marcus asked and Tomas' breath hitched, so he grabbed the bottle of water and shook his head.

"Nothing interesting," he said, hoping the water would wash away the sudden scratchiness of his voice. Something in his tone must've been off, because Marcus looked up from his sketches. Tomas felt his cheeks flush with heat and he tried to return the stare, calmly and with a soft smile. Marcus' eyes narrowed a bit, but then he let him off the hook and Tomas felt relief flooding his body. All he had to do was try and pretend nothing was wrong until their car was fixed and they had a way to leave. No problem at all.

Marcus changed the channel on the TV and settled on a show about angels and ghosts and started commenting on how foolish the premise was, because logically, the existence of angels should negate the existence of ghosts.

Tomas used the fact Marcus' focus was turned to the TV and gingerly settled on the bed, grabbing one of his unfinished books on the way. He could at least try and find some half comfortable position and catch up on reading, while Marcus bemoaned the existence of such 'drivel'. When listening to the comments on the absurdity of it all was starting to wear on Tomas, he looked up from the book.

"You realize you can change the channel anytime you want?" Tomas asked, a bit miffed. Marcus turned towards him, confusion written on his face.

"Why? I'm enjoying this too much. Best comedy I've ever seen," he said, grinning and popping a candy in his mouth like a kid at the movie theater. Tomas snorted and turned back to his book, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips even as Marcus gesticulated at the TV wildly.

"Well, at least they got the part with the salt right," Marcus said after the show ended and the credits rolled by. He turned down the sound for the ads, waiting for the next episode.

"You're awfully quiet today," he spoke out of the blue and Tomas blinked.

"Huh?"

"Maybe we can go out for lunch? No offense, but the stuff you brought could barely feed a bird."

"There's still some sandwiches if you're hungry," Tomas said unthinkingly and startled as a pillow hit him in the face.

"What's your problem?" he growled, barely able to contain the wince as the movement jarred his shoulder.

"You're quiet and cranky ever since you came back. Did a bee fly up your ass or what? Or did you step in some dog poop?"

Tomas blinked then closed the book, resigned to being the focus of Marcus' attention, at least until the advertisements finished.

"I'm not cranky, just tired. Might be coming down with something," he fibbed, hoping that would be enough to dissuade Marcus' attentions.

"You look a bit peaky," Marcus admitted, then shrugged. "Maybe some good soup and a warm, home cooked meal would help," he suggested and Tomas rolled his eyes.

"You just finished breakfast!"

"I wouldn't call one sandwich and some fruit at eleven am a breakfast. Not to mention, there was no coffee," Marcus reminded Tomas with a pout and Tomas grimaced, remembering where the coffee really ended up.

"So, order a pizza if you're so hungry," he offered.

"Pizza's for dinner. We can go back to that restaurant from yesterday. I heard they had some pecan pie on today's special. "

Tomas mulled over that option. If he protested too much, Marcus would get suspicious. Tomas was pretty sure Danny had other plans for the afternoon than hanging out at a family restaurant. Not to mention he wouldn't dare to do anything out in the open... and if so, Tomas thought he would be happy to let all the caution to the wind, forget he was a priest and simply clock that little smug bastard in the face.

"Well?" Marcus was still waiting for an answer and Tomas nodded.

"If your ankle feels up to it, sure. Why not. But give me some time, I'm really not hungry yet."

"Sure. I want to watch the second episode anyway."

With the matter settled, Marcus turned back to the TV and Tomas once again opened his book. Sitting in one position though, even on the bed, was becoming rather unbearable. He needed to take the pressure off his back and either lie down or get up and try to move before his muscles stiffened up totally. Fidgeting, Tomas decided that getting up might be a better option so he crawled out of the bed, biting his tongue to stop the whimper and stiffly walked over to his bag. The motel had a washing room and they were in need of some clean clothes anyway.

"Going somewhere?" Marcus asked, his eyes glued to the screen, flicking Tomas' way only momentarily.

"I think we might use the washing room. Do you have anything dirty?"

Marcus looked up, then reached over the bed and grabbed something from the floor. Before Tomas had a chance to react, there was a shirt flying his way. All he needed was to reach out to grab it, but his shoulder protested the movement and Tomas missed. The shirt landed on the floor a few feet from him.

"A warning would've been fine," Tomas muttered with a sigh and turned to pick up the shirt. He was in mid motion when he paused, feeling a stab of pain in his side. With gritted teeth he finished the move and stiffly picked up the shirt, hoping Marcus didn't note the hiss that managed to escape him. Before he even managed to straighten up though, there was a sound of movement and when he turned around it was to stand face to face with Marcus.

Tomas blinked. Either the older man's ankle was getting much better, or he spaced out for the second it took Marcus to get off the bed. In either case, judging by the look on Marcus' face, he was pretty much screwed.

"Since when do you wear long sleeved shirts inside?" Marcus asked without a preamble.

"I'm chilled. I told you I might be coming down with something," Tomas said, happy his brain was able to come up with a quick answer. "Since when are you interested in my choice of clothes?"

"Maybe since you started having trouble picking up a shirt," Marcus snapped back and Tomas rolled his eyes.

"Boredom doesn't suit you, Marcus," Tomas said, trying to keep his voice relaxed, even sounding amused. He turned to leave, hoping that Marcus would come to the conclusion he was indeed acting ridiculous from being bored. But it seemed Marcus wasn't ready to let the debate go and reached out to stop Tomas from leaving. Unfortunately, his hand landed right on one of the bruises on Tomas' arm and this time he was unable to stop the hiss of pain. Any hint of a smile left Marcus' face. Without a sound he pulled Tomas back and rolled up his sleeve... only to find the finger shaped bruises. Tomas was trying to pull back, but froze. He could've sworn Marcus had just growled. He definitely felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up in warning.

"It's... it's not what you think, Marcus."

"Really? Pray tell, Tomas, what am I thinking?" Marcus' voice was low, dangerous. They stared into each other's eyes and Tomas was the first to look away.

"It was nothing," he muttered, wishing Marcus would just let it go, leave him with at least some dignity.

"Nothing, really? Care to show me your other arm too?"

Tomas didn't answer, which was in and of itself enough of an answer. Marcus' eyes narrowed as he remembered the stiff movements and he went for the hem of the shirt, pulling it up before Tomas could protest. His eyes landed on the bruise on Tomas' flank, which to Tomas' own dismay looked much darker than he remembered. Then Marcus pulled the shirt up higher, only to reveal a few more bruises on the ribs. His fingers gently touched one of the bruises and Tomas hissed, taking a step back and pulling away from Marcus. The shirt rolled back down covering his torso, but it had nothing on the red blush staining his face.

"It's just a few bruises. I've had far worse from work," Tomas said, half a plea to let it go, half an apology.

"I don't see any bruises on your knuckles," Marcus growled and Tomas flinched at the sound. "What, are you such a martyr you didn't even try to protect yourself?" he spat, angry at whoever did that, angry at Tomas that he let them.

Tomas could see the accusation in Marcus eyes and the tone made him bristle, bringing to the surface his own anger.

"I would've been fine if there weren't three of them!" he snapped into Marcus' face. "Excuse me if I don't have eyes in the back of my head."

Marcus didn't say anything to that, but after a second he gave a slight nod. As if someone waved a magical wand, Tomas deflated, running a hand over his face, tired.

"Look, let's just... forget this happened, get our car and leave this godforsaken town." Tomas pleaded, but Marcus shook his head and put an arm on Tomas' shoulder. Fortunately, it wasn't the hurt one. Tomas knew if he'd flinched again, Marcus would've been out the door before he could even call his name.

"What the hell even happened, Tomas?"

"I was stupid, that's all. I didn't notice the car until it blocked my way and the other two appeared right behind me. We ended up in the alley. I almost got away, but then one of them smashed me across the back with something and by the time I got up, the other two were on me." Tomas recounted, angry at himself once again, reliving the scene even as Marcus moved closer, back into his personal space.

"Off with the shirt," he ordered gruffly once Tomas had run out of words. Tomas blinked.

"What?"

"I want to see the damage. I doubt you can turn your head backwards and check it yourself."

Tomas shook his head.

"There's no need, Marcus. I'm-"

"God help me, if you say you're fine, I'll clock you too!" Marcus snapped and they seemed to be in some kind of a standoff, neither ready to move.

"Promise you won't storm out of here and do something stupid," Tomas requested after a moment and Marcus' eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Why do you care about those little shits?"

"Don't be an idiot, Marcus," Tomas snapped. "If I could, I'd kick their asses right now," Tomas said fiercely and Marcus was relieved to see that fire in his eyes. It meant Tomas really fought and this wasn't him just accepting some kind of a punishment.

"But think! If you go off half-cocked and beat up the kid, the cops will be after us in a minute, and we don't even have our car yet! I doubt Bennett would be too happy with us getting locked up!"

Marcus had to agree with that logic, even though he didn't have to like it.

"Okay. I promise not to storm out now and do something stupid," he answered, careful with his phrasing. Tomas either didn't notice or chose to ignore it. Either way was fine with Marcus. "Now take off that shirt."

For a moment, Tomas wondered if keeping the smallest sliver of dignity was really worth the fuss Marcus would make if he simply refused. He looked into Marcus steely eyes and saw fury mixed with concern. It was the latter that caused Tomas to sigh and slowly try and extricate himself from the sweatshirt. When it got caught somewhere halfway and Tomas's body protested the effort of him moving around, Tomas let out a pained moan. There was no reason to pretend he was fine anymore.

"A bit of help?" came the muffled plea.

"Yeah, sure," Marcus muttered, his face momentarily caught in a frown as he saw more bruises appearing. Shaking off the urge to march out the door and beat up someone, Marcus took hold of the sweatshirt and pulled it off.

"Thanks," Tomas said and shivered as the air hit his too warm skin.

Marcus took a second to appreciate the fact Tomas was keeping in such fit condition, only to have that appreciation squandered by the array of bruises littering his stomach and sides, or the fingerprints on his arms. They stood there in the middle of the motel room, in an awkward silence, until another shiver run down Tomas' body and Marcus noticed his jaw clenching, face flushed from embarrassment.

"Did you check for broken ribs?" Marcus asked, keeping his voice low even as he gently ran a hand across the bruised skin, over the ribs, feeling if there was anything out of place.

"They're just-" Tomas hissed as Marcus touched a more painful spot, "-bruised," he added, letting out a sigh of relief when the probing stopped.

"Can you take a deep breath?"

"Yeah."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, waiting. Tomas rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, grimacing.

"Satisfied?"

Without a word Marcus sidestepped Tomas, putting a hand on his arm and gently nudging him to turn a bit so he could take a look at his back. Tomas did, albeit a bit hesitantly. When Marcus let out another breath that sounded more like a growl, Tomas wanted to turn back, but a hand on a shoulder stopped him, along with a gruff "Don't move".

"That bad?" he asked, trying to sound relaxed even if he felt anything but. The only answer was warm fingers touching the skin and gently tracing the bruise across his spine, pushing down in places and eliciting a hiss or a flinch.

"You were lucky," Marcus finally said, his voice a bit too tight for Tomas' comfort and this time there was no hand trying to stop him from turning.

"You okay, Marcus?" Tomas asked, seeing the faraway look, the clenched teeth and the frown marring his partner's face. Marcus blinked and the look was replaced by weariness... with their situation, with the world itself. Tomas didn't like that look at all and shook his head.

"Don't... please."

"What?" Marcus frowned.

"Don't let this mean more than it is?" Tomas wasn't sure what he was trying to say. In the grand scheme of things, this little encounter with a bunch of idiots didn't mean anything. In the small scale though... it made him wonder whether people were even worth fighting for. But that was only a momentary lapse, one which Tomas was already asking God's forgiveness for. He'd be damned if he let Marcus have the same thoughts however.

"It was just a stupid brawl. Nothing more."

"Did they hit you on the head as well?" Marcus asked with a soft snort, his hand reaching up to run over the thick hair, checking for bumps. Tomas huffed and pulled his head back, but there was a small grin on his face, mirrored by one on Marcus' face. When the arm landed on the nape of his neck and gave a supportive squeeze, he didn't pull away, instead leaned into the comforting touch with a sigh.

Marcus let him enjoy the touch only for a moment, then he gave him a gentle pat on the face and nodded towards the bed.

"Go lie down."

"We need clean clothes," Tomas protested halfheartedly, even though his legs were leading him towards the bed on their own volition. Marcus rolled his eyes.

" _You_ need to lie down. I think I can manage to separate my white shirts from your pink underwear," Marcus joked and Tomas stifled a laugh, knowing it would only hurt his ribs.

"I'm more worried about you accidentally shrinking my pants... or losing half my socks."

"That happened only once," Marcus commented and grabbed the keys from the apartment, gingerly slipping into his shoes.

"Yes, but it was memorable," Tomas said and closed his eyes momentarily as he finally stretched out on the bed. Marcus walked towards him and Tomas opened his eyes to something hitting the bed next to his hand.

"Hm?"

"Remote. Use at your own discretion between the total ten channels we got."

"Where you going?" Tomas asked, his eyes more alert and filled with suspicion. Marcus hadn't even touched their laundry and Tomas could still see steel in his eyes, though now it was replaced by annoyance.

"For some ice, you idiot. That's what you should've done in the first place."

"Oh." Tomas indeed felt like an idiot, though he couldn't stop the thought of falling asleep and Marcus going on a rampage. Still, the man hadn't done anything to deserve such suspicion... not yet. "Sorry."

"Hey, none of that," Marcus said, patting Tomas on the leg. "I promised not to do anything stupid. You really think I would just leave you here like this and go off without a plan?"

Tomas blinked, because he caught a strange glint in Marcus' eyes, only accentuated by a light smirk.

"I didn't really, but now I'm starting to," he muttered with some worry. Marcus winked at him, then shook his head.

"Nonsense. I'll grab that ice, you rest up. We're leaving first thing in the morning."

Despite the fact Tomas wasn't looking forward to spending the following day on the road, Marcus' words sounded like a blessed promise.

o-o-o

When the clock was nearing five in the afternoon, Marcus' phone beeped with a message from the garage letting him know he could pick up the car within the next hour or the next morning. Marcus looked over at the sleeping form on the bed and spent maybe five seconds thinking about waking him. But Tomas had managed to fall asleep only an hour ago, when the ice packs combined with the aspirin finally managed to dull the pain enough for him to find a semi comfortable position. In the meantime, Marcus grudgingly took care of their laundry and ordered some lunch. Due to Tomas' lack of appetite it might serve as dinner too.

While Marcus felt a bit reluctant to leave Tomas alone, he knew they needed their car as soon as possible so they could leave this hell town behind. He really wasn't looking for trouble... After all, he made a promise to Tomas. With that in mind, Marcus grabbed his keys, scribbled a short note for Tomas in case he woke up before he managed to return and silently left the room.

Half an hour later Marcus could finally sit behind the wheel. He felt a strange relief when easing down on the familiar seat and turning over the engine. They'd had the truck only a few months but it had become their home away from home. The truck and Tomas were the only two things Marcus could think of as his... and he gripped the wheel with white knuckles when he thought about Tomas being so violently attacked... and for what reason? Shaking his head, Marcus started for the motel, but the closer he got, the more anger he felt.

Tomas was a priest, for God's sake. Not just any priest, he was becoming a fine exorcist and most of all, he was Marcus' friend. He risked his soul for other people, they both did, their only reward a thank you from teary eyed relatives and a feeling that they did something good. And then there was some punk who probably did less good than a cockroach who dared to lay his hands on Tomas. Marcus expected violence from possessed people... that's what demons did after all. But he drew the line at people themselves hurting innocent people, his friends. Without thought, he turned the car and started for a slow cruise across the town. At first, he told himself it was just to check the car was indeed in working order, to get a few more minutes to calm himself down before returning to the motel room and seeing Tomas wincing at every move. But that was just a pretense, he knew. One that was dropped the second he spotted what he was truly looking for. The sheriff's kid, lounging in front of another pub with his two thug friends. Marcus slowed the car and pulled up next to them.

Danny was the first to notice him and he had this self-satisfied smirk on his face. Marcus had to clench the steering wheel to stop himself from jumping out of the car. Instead, he put on an easy smile and leaned his head out of the window, as if he was chatting with his best pal.

"How's your boyfriend doing? We wanted to show him around the town, but unfortunately, we had to cut it short. I had some more pressing issues to deal with," Danny spoke and stepped closer to the truck, arms crossed over chest and that shit eating smile on his face. The two thugs behind him chuckled.

"Such a lovely day, chaps. It's a pity it will end so badly for you," Marcus said with a smirk of his own.

Danny's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not so sure about that, old man. Why don't you stick around a bit and let us give you a proper tour?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, I'll have to decline your kind invitation. I'm afraid you ladies just aren't my types."

With that, Marcus put his truck in reverse. He pulled right next to the red Chevy belonging to Danny which was parked a few yards back. Without hesitation, he took a spanner from under his seat and with one smooth move knocked off the side mirror of the car. There were several shouts of protest and Marcus couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. He turned the truck and saw Danny and his friends running towards the Chevy. With a wave of his hand, he slowly drove the truck down the street, waiting. As soon as he saw the Chevy pulling away from the curb, Marcus stepped on the gas pedal and headed out of town, towards the woods.

Marcus didn't really worry about cops stopping him for speeding... it was pretty clear the red Chevy was chasing him and as everyone was steering clear of the Sheriff's son and his company, Marcus could've been pretty much invisible right now. Still, he needed to get Danny and his friends to some secluded place. There was a plan forming in his mind, one that Tomas would definitely disapprove of. But Tomas wasn't sitting on the passenger's seat, because those idiots decided to play with him a bit, so it was up to Marcus to make things right. Marcus led his followers out of town, out of sight. Once there... well, he knew his way around a dirty fight if need be.

The Chevy was starting to gain speed on Marcus' old truck and he knew he would have to act quickly. He floored the gas pedal and at the last second swerved the truck onto a side road. The Chevy tried to follow suit, but it got into a spin and had to backtrack a bit, giving Marcus time to get some headway. When he saw the road was turning into an old path overgrown with grass, with a line of trees on one side and a small clearing on the other, Marcus parked the car. He stepped out, leaned against the truck with crossed arms and waited. When the other car pulled up and the three guys stepped out, walking to him threateningly, Marcus just smiled.

o-o-o

By the time Marcus returned to the motel, it was already dark outside. He opened the door to a room lit up by the still running television. The lump on the bed seemed to be almost in the exact same place as when he left and Marcus let out a relieved sigh. For a second, he'd worried that Tomas might've woken up and decided to go out looking for him, despite how crazy of an idea that was. It looked as if he wasn't even aware of Marcus' departure though.

Marcus played with the thought of just crashing on the bed and getting some of the rest he deserved, a twinge in his ankle a sharp reminder that he might've overdone it just a bit. But then he shook his head. He took care of the problem and there probably won't be anyone looking for them before morning came, but Marcus wasn't willing to count on good luck in the first place. And he would rest much better knowing both he and Tomas were out of town and the Sheriff's reach.

Without much ado, Marcus flicked on the light switch. Tomas groaned but didn't move, so Marcus walked up to him then grimaced when he saw some of the bruises turning to deep purple. Tomas could probably use some more ice and rest, but Marcus had done what needed to be done, and now they had to go. With a sigh, Marcus sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hand on the back of Tomas' neck even as Tomas groaned again and tried to bury his face in the pillow to hide from the light. Marcus' hand slid up a bit to ruffle Tomas' hair.

"Tomas?" Marcus called his name and got a grumble in response then Tomas' head turned on the pillow and one eye popped open, squinting at the glare of the light.

"Que?"

"Sorry darling. I know you probably don't feel like moving, but we need to go."

There was a resigned sigh and Tomas slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, not even protesting when Marcus gave him a supporting hand. Blinking and trying not to whimper, Tomas focused on said hand grasping his arm... only to note the bruised knuckles.

"What did you do Marcus?" he asked bluntly, not having the energy to even raise his voice in alarm.

"Me? Nothing. I just took a little drive into the woods, to check if our truck works," came the innocent sounding answer, accompanied by a grin.

Tomas frowned, trying to wake up properly and make sure this was not just part of some dream. But no, he was pretty sure Marcus causing mayhem was just an everyday occurrence and not one of his tamer nightmares. With a sigh, he gave a small nod indicating that he was at least a little bit awake.

Marcus let go of his arm, satisfied that he wouldn't fall on his face, then started packing up their things, giving Tomas some time to orient himself.

Tomas watched him from the bed, noting his limp was much stronger than last time, but he also saw the happy spring in his steps, the small smirk playing on Marcus' face and the relaxed set of his shoulders. Marcus obviously achieved what he wanted and enjoyed it all the way. Tomas snorted, earning a curious look.

"What?"

"Just wondering why you are in such a good mood... when we have to sneak out of an already paid for room."

Marcus paused with the packing, then simply shrugged and closed his bag.

"Like I said, I took a ride. Not my fault those three nice guys decided to give me a tour of the neighborhood."

Tomas stiffened, his face turning serious. Marcus saw it and sighed.

"Relax, dear. Everyone is alive and well... I didn't beat up anyone. Not more than necessary," he added with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"You should be absolving sins, Marcus, not making them," Tomas noted with dismay.

"Why, haven't you heard I'm not a priest anymore?" Marcus wiggled his eyebrows and Tomas barely suppressed a groan.

"You better put on some clothes; it's a bit chilly to be shirtless in the car."

But Tomas didn't seem very quick to move so Marcus grabbed his pants from the chair, then started rummaging through Tomas' own bag. He pulled out a rather crinkled but clean button up shirt, then threw the pants and shirt next to Tomas on the bed. Tomas blinked.

"Trust me, you won't want to be wearing anything that you need to raise your shoulders for."

Tomas couldn't argue with that... just the thought of _moving_ made his skin crawl. He slowly reached for the pants, grimacing all the way. By the time he put on the shirt and his fingers tried to fumble with the buttons Marcus had packed all of his things as well and had both their bags ready. When he looked back at Tomas and the mess he was making with the buttons, he huffed and walked up to him, quickly redoing them.

"Here, done. Come on, the sooner we leave, the sooner you get back into bed."

"I'd like to know why I can't stay in this one," Tomas muttered even as he followed Marcus out of the room. He paused at the sight of the truck, a warm feeling of familiarity and something like peace filling his chest.

"I'll tell you if you'll be a good boy and get in the car?" Marcus said with a smirk even as he deposited both of their bags in the bed of the truck.

Tomas snorted and shook his head.

"Since you're asking so _nicely_ ," he opened the door and slid into his seat, grimacing when he leaned back. Marcus frowned in thought.

"Wait here a sec," he said and vanished back inside the room.

Tomas wasn't planning to move anyway. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine what Marcus could've done against those three guys and get away with barely scraped knuckles.

"Here. Now you can sleep in the car too."

Tomas opened his eyes when he felt something soft and fluffy land on his lap. He blinked in confusion at the motel pillow.

"That's not ours," he commented dully when Marcus finally sat behind the wheel and started the engine.

"It is now. Don't look so offended... your ribs or back will appreciate it come morning."

Tomas didn't protest that, but he also couldn't just leave it alone.

"Since when do we steal things?"

"It's not stealing, just collateral for the damages caused by the ignorance and stupidity of the townsfolk," Marcus growled.

"How's that the motel's fault?"

"Oh, shut up. I left a nice tip on the other pillow. They really won't care, trust me."

Tomas blinked.

"Okay. Since when do we have money for spare pillows?"

The mischievous glint was back in Marcus eyes.

"I might've borrowed a few bucks from Danny's purse while I was looking for stuff."

"Marcus!"

"Oh, come on, get off your high horse, Tomas. That kid needed a lesson, along with his idiot friends. I gave him one. Should be thankful."

Tomas ran both hands over his face, unsure if he even wanted to know anymore what had happened, but knowing his curiosity would get the better of him.

"What did you do?" he asked for the third time and finally Marcus gave him an answer.

"They rather underestimated what an old guy like me can do," he said and recounted to Tomas how he lured them out into the woods. How he provoked Danny to attack first and knocked him out cold before the two other guys decided to step in.

"How did you get rid of them?"

Marcus shrugged.

"Not my first rodeo. I learned some dirty moves along the road," Marcus admitted and Tomas snorted.

"Maybe you could teach me some of those," he said after a moment and Marcus looked away from the road.

"I dunno... will your priestly honor be able to handle that?"

"I think my priestly honor had its ass kicked today. Some good moves can come handy in any case. The possessed don't play around either."

Marcus had to agree with that.

"Once your bruises stop changing colors, we might talk about it."

"That's thoughtful of you," Tomas said, squashing the pillow a bit and putting it between his back and the seat as a cushion.

"So, what happened after you took all three of them out? They are alive, right?"

Marcus snorted, then pulled out his phone and tossed it to Tomas.

"Check the photos," he said, when Tomas just stared at him in confusion.

Tomas did and the look on his face changed from confusion to slight horror as he saw the picture Marcus had taken.

"Are you serious?"

On the picture all three guys were sitting on the ground, shirtless and with bloody noses, all three of them tied together and against a tree. They were obviously awake and unimpressed by their current situation.

Marcus had the gall to look at him with a proud smile and Tomas didn't know if he should laugh or start lecturing. The twinge in his back as the car run over some rock put any thought of lecture away. Still, Marcus had to know this could end badly.

"Come on, we can't leave them like this, during the night. It's... getting cold."

"It's warm enough and they can share some body heat. True, it's not the macho way, but..." Marcus shrugged, driving the car relentlessly out of the town. "The nettles should keep them warm anyway."

"Nettles?" Tomas frowned, thinking he misheard the word.

"Stinging nettles. It's this green plant that stings like hell?"

"I know what they are. I just..." Tomas shook his head. "What did you mean by that?"

"Oh. The nettles worked wonders on the bullies at the boy's school. I thought I might give it a try here as well." Marcus looked at Tomas with that boyish smirk that made Tomas realize Marcus was a person not to be messed with long before reaching adulthood.

"I just put a bunch of them down their paints. Trust me, come morning and Danny's girlfriend will come meet up with him at the location I sent her from his phone, Danny and his friends will have better things to do than chase after us."

Tomas shook his head in dismay.

"Yes, but what will be stopping them from causing trouble once they... recover? Our names are at the motel after all and the card could trace back to Bennett."

"The photo you're holding?"

"I don't follow."

Marcus shrugged.

"Kids these days. It's all about social media."

Tomas frowned, slowly getting the picture.

"You told them you will post this photo if they say anything?"

Marcus just looked at him.

"And they believed it? You don't even have a computer!"

"Doesn't mean I don't know how to use one," Marcus protested a bit offended, then smirked.

"Anyways, doesn't matter. Cause I told them you were very good at that crap."

Tomas blinked, unsure of what to say. He was horrified... yet he was also very impressed. Most of all, he felt grateful and happy to have such a protective partner. He looked at Marcus, then back at the small screen of the cell phone, at the picture of those three, shirtless and looking most uncomfortable. If he squinted enough, he could see something green peeking from under their pants. Tomas chuckled. He would have thought some people wouldn't get their due until they met their Creator, but now it looked like Marcus was doing everything in his power to add a little helping hand. Tomas was just happy he could traipse along, because the road ahead looked to be an interesting one.


End file.
